


Nightmares

by ks_villain



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Angst, Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, One Shot, Sticky Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2013-06-07
Packaged: 2017-12-14 05:24:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/833250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ks_villain/pseuds/ks_villain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Megatron's mind is a scary place. Even if Bumblebee managed to escape from his “Sick Mind” and save Optimus, he has seen things that are going to plague his recharge cycle for a long time to come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eerian_sadow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eerian_sadow/gifts).



The size of this place was unreal. Bumblebee felt as if he had been wandering through the dark corridors forever; he had long since lost all sense of direction in the labyrinth of intersecting hallways. But even though the place was not one familiar to him, his feet somehow still seemed to know where to carry him. 

He did not fight it and let himself drift through seemingly endless tunnels, aware that he was probably dreaming. The blurred quality of all sensory feedback, the slightly hazy edges of his vision - all of this led him to believe that he was experiencing some kind of weird recharge fantasy. But when he reached the end of a corridor and stepped out into bright light, he knew immediately that this was no ordinary dream. 

Bumblebee stepped into the gladiatorial arena of old Kaon.

He had never been to the place, not while it was still used for its original purpose, but he knew it from historical data files and recordings. He had not been around at the time to have actually seen the pit fights. The last match in this arena had taken place many vorns before the war started to spread over Cybertron’s entire surface. 

Slowly, Bumblebee walked to the middle of the arena and looked up to the ranks of faceless spectators. They cheered excitedly and stamped their feet in unison, a rhythm that went right into his spark, until it felt compelled to beat in tune with the drumming noise. Neon advertisements flickered. The sound was deafening. 

This was not the first time he had re-lived one of Megatron's memories, after he had escaped from the Decepticon leader's mind. Ratchet called these experiences “mental feedback loops” and said they would eventually stop plaguing his recharge. Bumblebee hoped that would happen sooner rather than later, for Megatron did not have many pleasant memories. Or at least he had not seen any of those so far. 

As if conjured by the thoughts of him, Megatron appeared in the halo of the arena's spotlights, roaring as he tackled his opponent, a rust coloured brute who was bigger than Megatron himself. No matter their differences in size, the other mech did not stand a chance. He went down in a cloud of dust. 

The two took no notice of Bumblebee as they struggled on the dirty floor. The cheers of the crowd grew louder and louder. Megatron repeatedly bashed his opponent's helmet against the floor and, with sickening clarity, Bumblebee knew that Megatron was just playing with his victim. He was not only going to deactivate him, he was going to do so slowly, give the audience a show. 

The nameless mech knew this as well. The terror in his optics was sickening, but still he fought on, determination all that he had left. 

Bumblebee could not tear his optics away from the fight. He wanted to do something, to help somehow, but he knew that he could not change what had already happened. He could not influence anything in Megatron's memories, even though he had tried. From the first moment they started to disturb his recharge cycle, he had tried every time. 

Something was different today, though. Bumblebee couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, something besides the deadly struggle only a few meters away. He had the distinct feeling that he was being watched, but that was silly, wasn't it? He was the one watching.

It took the distraught scout a few nanoseconds to realize that Megatron had indeed raised his head and was looking at him. Directly looking at him! But...Megatron could not possibly see him! He had never acknowledged his presence before. 

The next moment, Bumblebee's vision became hazy. All sensory feedback became muted, from the sounds of the ranks to the gasping of the fighters' vents. He felt sick at the sudden wave of vertigo and emotions that hit him: wild triumph, fierce pride and satisfaction so deep he had never felt the likes of it before. 

And suddenly he WAS Megatron and his servos were closing around the mech's throat. He looked directly into the flickering optics, smelled the unmistakable stench of ozone as finally, mercifully, the light of the gladiator's spark went out. 

Only one sparkbeat later, Bumblebee found himself on his knees just a few steps away from the combatants. He shook his head and tried to clear his processor, but he could not explain what had just happened. Nothing like this had ever happened before. 

Megatron was still looking at him, crimson optics burning into his very spark. ‘They should not yet be red’ was the only thought Bumblebee's mind was capable of forming at the moment. Then the crowd cheered and finally Megatron turned his gaze away as he raised his stained fists up into the air and revelled in the shouts of the spectators. 

Relief that was entirely his own once again flooded Bumblebee's senses, now that he was no longer the focus of the gladiator's attention. For most of his existence, Bumblebee had known war. He had lost many friends and seen a lot of things that were far worse than what he had witnessed just now.... 

Yet he could not recall when he had last felt so terrified, so shaken to his core. It was not logical, but as it sometimes happened in nightmares, the fear in them had an entirely different quality, another level of urgency to it. 

Before Bumblebee could gather his thoughts and calm his wildly beating spark, his surroundings shifted again. The brightly lit arena changed into a dark room, completely silent and eerily calming at first. 

Bumblebee took in his new surroundings. He was in some sort of living quarter, spartan, but with a wide berth in the middle. The sturdy-looking piece of furniture was huge, obviously constructed for a heavy frame. It was canted at an angle so steep that it would make recharging difficult.  
When he took a few steps around, he saw that it was occupied.

The still form was familiar to Bumblebee, who was shocked to see Soundwave, the Decepticon's silent communications specialist. He wore the familiar facial screen and visor, looking very much like the Soundwave he knew from his own time. 

The slender mech lay on his back, long arms bound securely above his head. His thin arms were pulled so far back that his spinal plating could not rest against the berth's surface. The position must be extremely uncomfortable, borderline painful, Bumblebee realised.

Soundwave, he knew, was one of Megatron's earliest followers. He had fought at Megatron's side since he could remember. Was this perhaps a punishment? But what was Soundwave being punished for? Had he not always been as loyal as he was later on? 

The Autobots knew little else about Soundwave's origins. Truth be told, they knew even less about the mech himself. He had always been something of a mystery, one of the Decepticons who was seldom seen on the actual battlefield. 

Bumblebee came a bit closer, despite the feeling that he was observing something private. He felt that he should somehow not be here and witness “this”, whatever “this” was. But he could not stop himself from taking yet another step and looking more closely. 

Only now he became aware of the glinting chain around Soundwave's neck. The links of the chain were digging into metal, leaving scratches; so tightly did they coil around the slender neck that it limited the mech's range of movement even further. Bumblebee's fingers instinctively went to his own throat. 

If this was another one of Megatron's memories, was this before Soundwave had joined him? Bumblebee had never wondered how Soundwave came to join the Decepticons, but now his curiosity was kindled. Maybe this was the reason for Soundwave's silence? Something that had happened to him before the war? Or…something that Megatron had done to him? 

A feeling of kinship, unwanted but undeniable, pierced Bumblebee's spark. 

Meanwhile, the silent mech on the berth was not showing any signs of acknowledging his presence. Spindly fingers curled, and then straightened again, the only obvious sign of agitation in the otherwise impenetrable exterior. 

Bumblebee made another step, as if hypnotized. If he were completely honest with himself, the scout was very curious now. To see someone so stoic in such a vulnerable situation was strangely intriguing. And he had never been this close to Soundwave. 

Up close, he could study the LED lights running across the arching torso. The visor remained dark and unresponsive, like the rest of the mech, but Bumblebee could now detect a slight and almost imperceptible shiver, travelling from time to time through the bound mech. 

“A beautiful sight, isn't it?”

Bumblebee literally jumped with surprise, a small beep escaping his vocalizer. He jerked around to find Megatron looming over him, far too close for comfort. His servos tightened into fists as he stood his ground, looking up into red nightmare eyes, not backing down. 

If he would still question such things, Bumblebee would have asked himself how someone so big could have moved behind him without making a sound - Megatron's steps were normally very heavy - but by now he no longer felt like questioning things like that. 

Megatron did not seem angry at his presence. Far from it, he appeared to be in a magnanimous, almost jovial mood. With both hands on his hips, he just chuckled and answered another one of Bumblebee's unspoken questions. 

“Yes, I can see you, little Scout. I can see you admiring the view. You must admit that Soundwave presents quite an enchanting sight, doesn't he?”

No, it was not “enchanting”, Bumblebee was tempted to answer, but he did not rise to the bait and instead kept silent. He did not like anyone to suffer like this. It brought him no joy, even if it was a Decepticon. Even if it was Soundwave, who was responsible for the deaths of many Autobots. 

A soft clinking sound pulled Bumblebee's attention off Megatron and back to the mech on the berth. Soundwave's visor had risen a few inches. He looked directly at Megatron, and at his master's growled acknowledgement, greeted him with a small bow of his head, as far as movement was possible. 

Now that Megatron had arrived, Soundwave was no longer keeping still. He began struggling slightly, shifting his hips. Bee's gaze was drawn towards the little sensual movements, which were so much like a silent _please_.

“Isn't he begging nicely?” Megatron's voice was tight with emotion, satisfaction and something else Bumblebee did not even want to name. It was still strange to have Megatron talking to him like that, in such a calm and low-voiced manner, as if an Autobot scout were a completely normal appearance in his memories.

The question slipped out before Bumblebee could stop himself.

“A punishment?” Megatron's smile widened. “No. I cannot think of any occasion when a punishment would have been necessary. Soundwave has always been the most loyal and trusted of my lieutenants.”

Bumblebee reset his optics, confused. When Megatron stepped closer to the berth, he had no choice but to move with him, if he wanted to keep the distance between them. He took a few steps back, until the back of his legs hit the berth. Even though he was careful not to touch its occupant, he could not fail to notice the heat emanating from Soundwave. 

“Think of it more as a reward.”

As if an unspoken command had been given, Soundwave spread his legs a little wider, a difficult manoeuvre considering the position he was in. Megatron's optics turned brighter and his fans whirred to life. He crossed the remaining distance to the berth. Bumblebee barely managed to step aside. 

“You see, for Soundwave, the true reward has always been serving me.” 

He ran a clawed digit along the inside of Soundwave's straining legs. They trembled faintly every time the sharp tips grazed the dark metal, scrambling for purchase on the tilted surface. Bumblebee could only stare. 

Almost as if by accident, claws slid into sensitive seams. Soundwave jerked and made a noise that was indescribable, sounding both desperate and at the same time relieved. It deeply disturbed Bumblebee, chilled him in a way nothing in this dream-scape had so far.

In Megatron the reaction could not have been more different. A wave of heat burned trough his mind. Once again, Bumblebee could feel the warlord's emotions as if they were his own. His will to dominate, to possess, was so strong that it threatened to consume Bumblebee. He tried to struggle against it, but in vain. The heat was too distracting and he could not concentrate. 

When Megatron bent down over Soundwave, their horrified spectator completely forgotten, all Bumblebee could do was to send a silent prayer to Primus. This would be the perfect moment to wake up. But somehow he already knew that nothing would prevent him from having to watch whatever came next. Why would this time be any different? 

He could not look away. Mesmerized, his optics followed Megatron as he bent lower, fully expecting him to start torturing Soundwave. And what was probably the worst of it, deep down there was a part of him that did not want to look away. The thought made his faceplates burn with shame, but he did not wake up, Primus granted him no such mercy. 

What happened next surprised Bumblebee so much that his processor almost froze. Megatron's huge servos parted the dark thighs before him a bit further, then - almost gently - he leaned in and gave the edges of Soundwave's interface cover a long lick. 

Not fully able to process what he was seeing, Bumblebee just stared. All thoughts of off-lining his optics were forgotten. They were fixed on the sight of Megatron licking over the tightly closed panel, again and again, in slow deliberate sweeps, catching the small beads of lubricant that started to escape. The sharp smell of arousal suddenly filled the room. 

It seemed to excite Megatron a lot, if his breathy growls were any indication. Bumblebee could no longer quite remember why he had wished to wake from his recharge so badly. The sounds and smells assaulted his senses. If he had still had his voice box, he would have probably gasped. Or moaned. But things being as they were, he stayed as silent as Soundwave. 

Soundwave might have remained silent, but his hips pushed into the determined tongue as far as they could. His long legs were shaking, the chain around his neck was straining, the bindings creaking with the effort to hold him still. 

Somewhere in the background the deep drumming noise was starting up again, the same Bumblebee had heard in the arena, and it got faster as his sparkbeat increased. 

“Eager, are we?” Megatron teased and Bumblebee no longer knew whom the silver mech was talking to, because he was suddenly so very aroused it hurt. 

He told himself it was not his own arousal but Megatron's. This was his memory after all. And that was all there was to it, Bumblebee reminded himself, this was just a mental feedback loop, just an after effect of the cortical psychic patch. 

“Open,” Megatron commanded and Bumblebee could feel his body trying to obey the order, before he realized that the word had not been said in Megatron's rasping voice.…. 

Bumblebee woke to a loud noise, a rhythmical banging on his quarter's door. The whirring of his own fans was incredibly loud. He hoped they would not be heard on the other side of the door, where – he realized only slowly - someone was knocking. It took him an embarrassingly long time to figure out that it was just Bulkhead.

“Come on, Bee, open the door. We are late.” 

He beeped an apology, still half in recharge.

“Hey, buddy, are you really ok?”

Forcing himself stay calm, Bumblebee answered in the affirmative, for once in his existence glad for his damaged vocalizer, which hid his emotions so well. He just needed a few kliks, he added, to take care of something. That was not even a lie, as he never wanted to lie to his friends. 

He had told them that he didn't want to talk about what he had seen in Megatron's mind and they didn't force him. Whenever he'd be ready to talk, they promised they would be there for him. Well, he doubted he would ever be ready to talk about any of this. But he did not want the others to treat him any differently; he had been through worse after all. 

Finally, Bulkhead's heavy steps could be heard receding. Bumblebee was glad his friend had given up so easily. There was no way he was going out like this. He was burning up from the inside, spike pressing against the inside of his panel, begging to be released. 

As soon as Bulkhead was a few meters down the corridor and safely out of hearing range, Bumblebee allowed his interfacing panel to open and his spike to slide from its housing. He wrapped a shaking servo around the hot metal, suppressing a long shiver. Primus! He was already so charged; this was not going to take long. At all. 

His other servo grabbed the edge of his berth above his head, digging into the metal hard enough to leave dents. With all his willpower, Bumblebee tried not to think of anything as he began moving his servo up and down. He tried to concentrate only on the sensations, the pleasure racing up and down his spinal cord, but that quickly proved to be a futile endeavour. 

Against his will his thoughts drifted back to Megatron's memories. Back to one memory in particular. He imagined what it would be like, to be restrained like Soundwave, unable to move, unable to stop someone else from doing with you what he wanted. 

To give up all control about your own frame like that... it was a foreign concept to him. Especially, how could anyone choose to trust Megatron in such a way? It was inconceivable to Bumblebee, how Soundwave could have agreed to trust Megatron, out of all mechs, so much. But he was so aroused it mattered little what his logical circuits thought about the matter. 

The image of sharp teeth at the insides of his legs was enough to make his charge increase to dangerous levels. When he imagined the slippery pressure against his valve covering, the memory was so real he opened up before he could distinguish between reality and memory. 

For a split second he dared to imagine someone else there with him. Someone he could trust completely. Someone strong, like Bulkhead. Someone experienced, like Ratchet. Or, Primus, his faceplates flushed even hotter at the very thought, as he even imagined the blue and red chassis of...

Bumblebee was almost ready to overload, when something in him started fighting against the fantasy, against the thought of submitting. A wave of anger was his only warning, before the familiar sense of vertigo made his surroundings shift and turn. 

The next second he was back in the dimly lit quarters in Kaon. Not as a spectator this time, but right in the middle of the action. He once again inhabited Megatron's body, which was so incredibly powerful, so effortlessly strong and fuelled by a burning fire that consumed all further thought. Bumblebee could no longer feel anything but the heat and desire and the immense force of will that was Megatron. 

He was looking down on his, no, Megatron's frame, and oh-holy-Primus there was no way he would ever be able to look at Megatron again without thinking of how his spike looked like. He only had a split second to contemplate it though, before Megatron pulled Soundwave's hips closer, lining his massive spike up against the open valve. 

Wait, did he just plan to shove in like that? Bumblebee was no expert on interfacing, but he knew that without proper preparation, you could seriously injure your partner's valve. Considering Megatron's proportions, this would be a tight fit in the first place. There was no way that thing could fit without a lot of preparation. 

How could Megatron hurt someone that trusted him? That was Bumblebee's last conscious thought before Megatron thrust forward with all his immense strength, sinking into the heat between Soundwave's thighs. There was nothing comparable in Bumblebee's memory bank that was even close to the experience that followed. 

He had never known anything could feel like this. Soundwave was so tight; he could make out every single sensor node as Megatron shoved in, relentlessly pushing the resisting callipers apart. The amount of friction was overwhelming. It took quite a lot of force to sheathe his length fully, and even more to pull back and take up a brutal rhythm. 

The slender frame below him trembled uncontrolled, back arching off the berth as Soundwave struggled ineffectively below the much greater weight. There was still a part of Bumblebee that was appalled by his own actions, which desperately wanted to stop himself from hurting the other mech. But most of his ability to reason was drowned out by the blinding ecstasy. 

There was absolutely nothing he could do anyway. Bumblebee was just a spectator in Megatron's body. He was helpless again, just as when Megatron had killed the mech in the arena. Megatron had pounded his opponent's head against the dirty floor, just as he was now violently claiming Soundwave, whose whole frame was beginning to shake badly. 

What made this experience so much worse was that Bumblebee could not completely deny that he was enjoying this. It felt so good, he could hardly think. And only part of it was Megatron's fierce pleasure, the rest.... 

Megatron growled loudly, grabbed the chain and pulled sharply to bring Soundwave's face closer. Bumblebee expected to see Megatron's nightmarish visage reflected in the pitch black surface of the visor, but to his horror it was his own face. The sensation lasted only a nanosecond, before Soundwave threw his head back and overloaded hard.

Too shocked to feel much, Bumblebee followed him over the edge. 

A few kliks later, he found himself back in his own body, in his own room, on his own berth, servo sticky and fans still whirring to cool down his overheated frame. He was alone in the darkness, but he imagined he could hear Megatron's voice chuckling in his head.

**Author's Note:**

> The consent issues in this fic are just "perceived consent issues" resulting from Bee's limited POV, but I thought I'd rather be safe than sorry with the warnings. 
> 
> The interfacing between Soundwave and Megatron is completely consensual, of course. Megatron just didn't feel like sharing his memories of post-interface cuddling with Bumblebee. ;)
> 
> Edit: And of course, many thanks to my kind and patient beta-reader [accidentalzombi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/accidental_zombie).


End file.
